


Ben'n'Lew: Memes, a Mid-Life Crisis and Meaningful Looks

by antineutrinos



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Christmas, Crack, Drinking, Fluff, Gen, Hat Films, Help, I still dont know how to tag lol, Ice Cream, LOTS of booze, Late Night Calls, M/M, drunk, i dont know what im doing, yogscast - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 18:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12965907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antineutrinos/pseuds/antineutrinos
Summary: Ben and Lewis are definitely not in love. Even if the whole office disagrees.(AKA Lewis totally has a crush on Ben and between being peer-pressured into kissing under the mistletoe and getting drunk off their faces together, it makes for a funny-not-funny story)





	Ben'n'Lew: Memes, a Mid-Life Crisis and Meaningful Looks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatAnnoyingBella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAnnoyingBella/gifts).



> 1\. This is a joke. Seriously. None of this is serious. 
> 
> 2\. I wrote this during the week late at night. I am currently editing this also late at night. Any mistakes are my own. Sorry about that. (At the time of posting this, it's my birthday!)
> 
> 3\. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BELLA YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARD. THIS IS MY CROSS-CONTINENTAL INTERNATIONAL PRESENT TO YOU, ON YOUR BIRTHDAY. THANK YOU FOR BEING SUCH A GREAT FRIEND! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WOULD DO WITHOUT YOU! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! *SLOPPY KISS*
> 
> (bella's birthday is the day after mine but because of time zones it works out that we kind of have our birthdays at the same time? anyway thanks for reading. wuv u)

 

Ben doesn’t quite know who decided to throw a Christmas party at the office, but he isn’t really complaining. A night spent with his friends and copious amounts of alcohol, in the place he loves most. 

 

Things are festive, too. There’s Christmas decorations everywhere— literally, everywhere. There’s a tree in the hallway, and bunting strewn across the ceilings. Tinsel is thrown around everything it can possibly be thrown around. In the bathroom, there is a life-sized Santa Claus that has a sensor, so when you walk by, it starts singing and aggressive rendition of Jingle Bells. It has tinsel around its neck like a feather boa. And of course, it wouldn’t be a Christmas party without mistletoe hanging from every door.  

 

Ben doesn’t know what time it is, but he is only very slightly tipsy. Everyone else is, too— but it makes for good fun. Sjin is dressed in a full Elsa costume. In the corner, Turps keeps guard of the Booze Table. Whether he’s protecting it or stealing from it, Ben can’t quite tell. He gets into a conversation with Tom about Star Wars, and before long, they’re arguing about something incredibly specific— but Ben can’t really remember what they’re talking about. He doesn’t even really know what words are coming out of his mouth anymore, just that Tom is nodding and arguing back with slurred words. Then they move onto to talking about the decline of The Simpsons since the 90’s. It’s niche, and not a conversation Ben expected to be having when he’s a bit more than tipsy. However, it’s nice to finally voice his opinions about Bart’s character and his story arc through the series. 

 

There’s a nice atmosphere. It could only get more Christmas—y if it started snowing outside.  

 

Eventually, after a while, Ben steps out of his argument with Tom to go to the bathroom. He steps away, too busy thinking about the relationship between Bart and Lisa, and whether it’s true to real life, when he suddenly bumps into Lewis. 

 

Lewis must be coming back from the bathroom. They only bumped shoulders, but Ben was too busy thinking to have even noticed Lewis in the first place, so when they make contact, he jumps like he touched an electric wire. They both stop, and look at each other, and apologise. They were going to go their separate ways when suddenly there’s a yell of “LEWIS AND BEN UNDER THE MISTLETOE”. Ben looks up, to his horror, and sees that he’s directly under the mistletoe, and so is Lewis. There’s a loud ‘oooh’ from everyone as they turn to look. 

 

Lewis, who’s drunk off his face on the secret liquor Smith brought, laughs. Lewis shrugs, and laughs some more.  

 

“Stop stalling!” Yells someone. 

 

“Do it!” Yells another, words slurred.  

 

Ben rolls his eyes, and leans in. If you can’t fight them, join them. It’s not like he can run away, eithers. The kiss is short and sweet, but it’s a kiss nonetheless. There’s a bigger ‘ooOOH’ from the crowd this time, a few whistles, and Ben grins. He heads to the bathroom. He really does need to pee. 

 

Lewis is left blushing and flustered— a drink is put in his hand and he drinks it to hide his smile. He kissed Ben. Well, Ben kissed him, and it doesn’t really count since it was under the mistletoe, and it really really doesn’t count because Ben happens to be married, but you know— a kiss is a kiss.  

  

— 

 

The party ends well, anyway. Lewis can’t really remember any of it, but neither can anyone else so it doesn’t matter. Apparently all three members of Hat Films did a strip tease— apparently, they have a three-piece routine— but there is no proof other than a blurry, three-second-long video on Tom’s phone. Ben briefly mentioned something about Sjin— something about Elsa and pissing?— but Lewis isn’t worried. Everyone helps clean up the next day, because  _Jesus Christ_  the place is a mess.  

 

“We are never doing that again,” Lewis says, scrubbing the carpet within an inch of its carpet life. There are suspicious red stains and Lewis is concerned it’s blood— even though he knows it’s wine— but it's annoying him. 

 

Ben, who is at a computer, ‘working’, watches him with his right leg crossed over his left in a T shape. “You look like a 50’s housewife.” There’s a shit-eating grin on his face and Lewis can’t help but smile. 

 

Lewis stops. He looks at himself— apron, bright yellow cleaning gloves, big bucket of water— he supposes he does look like a housewife. He takes a breath and smiles. “Yes, let me just finish cleaning the carpet, then I’ll make your dinner, Ben darling, after I snort three lines of coke.” 

 

“Good, darling. Put some coke in the dinner, that’ll really spice it up.” 

 

Lewis laughs, hard. He leans down into the child pose from yoga. He grins into the floor. He is terribly hungover. Cleaning the carpet can wait. 

 

— 

 

Lewis can be very unpredictable sometimes, Ben thinks. However, it’s unpredictable in a predictable way. That makes no sense, Ben says to himself. But Lewis makes no sense, so the logic doesn’t matter. 

 

When you look past the outspokenness, and the politics, and the mid-life crisis, there really is something quite lovable about Lewis. Ben can’t quite put his finger on it. Sitting down to stream with Lewis, Ben finds it is his favourite time of week. He wonders if he should be concerned about this. He passes it off. He just enjoys video games. And Lewis' company. That's all. Nothing more. 

 

— 

 

 **Lewis** : ben r u awake 

 

 **Ben** : why are you awake it’s three in the morning 

 

 **Lewis** : why are YOU awake ben  

 

 **Ben** : baby needs feeding. what’s up 

 

 **Lewis** : can’t sleep. too tired for reddit. want death 

 

 **Ben** : Lewis Brindley? Not on reddit? That’s something unheard of 

 

 **Lewis** : stop bullying me 

 

 **Lewis** : ben? 

 

 **Lewis** : ben  

 

 **Lewis** : ben who closes the bus door after the bus driver gets off 

 

 **Lewis** : ben please 

 

 **Lewis** : ben 

 

 **Lewis** : please  

 

— 

 

Ever since the Christmas party— well, What Lewis can remember of it— he has suddenly noticed Ben.  

 

Not that he hadn’t noticed him before, they’re best friends. They spend time together. They play games together. They talk a lot. Only now has Lewis  _noticed_  Ben, though. 

 

The wrinkles around his eyes when he smiles, and the intense look of Concentration when they’re playing board games and Ben wants to win. He is so goddamn fucking  _smart_ , too. Jesus Christ. Sometimes it’s hard for Lewis to look at Ben. His smartness and his eye wrinkles and his furrowed-brow-squinty-eyes concentrated look. 

 

Thinking about it, Lewis realizes how horribly gay it sounds in his head. He’s not gay, though. He just likes Ben. Well, not like-like, it’s not like he has a crush on Ben— Lewis is thirty four. He is too old for crushes.  

 

No, he’s just…Ben-sexual. So what if he likes the way Ben’s shoulders look? He’s just Ben-sexual. His sexual preference is those of the Ben type. If they have nice eyes and knowledge of Star Wars that takes years to build, well, it ticks all of Lewis’ boxes. 

 

He wonders how Ben feels about him. Immediately, when Lewis starts worrying, he stops. Those thoughts can wait a hot minute. Right now, Lewis is too busy imagining their wedding. 

 

— 

 

Lewis hates January. And February. He hates the first few months of the year, really. Everything is cold and wet and it’s that awkward transitional period between winter and spring. Like the earth is going through puberty. The world can’t seem to decide if it wants to be hot or cold so instead it settles for a hot-cold. It’s frosty and everything is re-emerging from winter and it fills like the season’s version of a filler episode. 

 

However, sitting inside in the office with a mug of tea and Ben next to him, Lewis thinks he cannot he happier. He doesn’t know what they’re playing— neither does Ben, really— but that’s okay. Lewis doesn’t mind.  

 

Sitting there, barefoot, cross-legged in his chair. Lewis adores it. He can tell Ben does too— he has the twinkle in his eye— and God, Lewis wishes this would last forever.  

 

— 

 

"What's the deal with Ben and Lewis?" Sips asks one day. Lewis and Ben are not present, but Sips doesn't know where they are. Everyone else in the room rolls their eyes when they hear his question. 

 

Sips must've looked confused, because Duncan jumps to his aid. "They're basically in love but they're both too blind to realize." 

 

Immediately, everyone groans. Steve shakes his head. "It's a nightmare, co-ordinating their streams." 

 

"You should've seen them at karaoke last week—" 

 

"They need to fuck already, Jesus—" 

 

Sips throws his hands up in front of him. "Woah, woah, woah. I meant their X-COM playthrough, Christ, guys—" 

 

— 

 

Lewis stares at the card sitting on his desk. There’s a soft toy to accompany it, too, but that’s sitting in a bag on the floor. In Lewis’ head, the card stares back with cold eyes. It looks incriminating— guilty, even. Lewis wonders if he’s just putting his own emotions onto it. It’s a card, for fuck’s sake. A card. 

 

Well, it’s a pink, flowery card, covered in roses and hearts and a big ‘HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY’ written in cursive. Why would Lewis do this to himself? 

 

It had seemed like such a good idea, to buy Ben a Valentine’s present. The plush, a fluffy white bear that has red cartoon hearts as eyes, had been so alluring in the shop. It called to him, Lewis think. It was Ben he thought of when he saw it. Not Tom, with his endless flirtations (sometimes Lewis feels like telling him there was no point, but he isn’t that merciless). Not Barry, who is more like a brother, or a son. Lewis is merely Barry’s mentor, nothing more. He didn’t even think of Duncan, or Sjin, or even his parents. It was Ben. 

 

But now, with the card in front of him and the bear wrapped in crepe paper, Lewis takes a deep breath. What’s the point of life if you don’t live? Why do risks exist, if you don’t take them? 

 

His mouth is set in a hard line when he picks up a pen. He’s suddenly overcome with emotion, and before Lewis knows it, he’s signing his name at the bottom.  

 

Reading back over it, Lewis realizes it sounds horribly— horribly gay. No, Lewis says, Ben-sexual. He’s just Ben-sexual. So what if the card is soppy? That’s what Valentine’s Day is for. Right? 

 

He sighs. He’s already bought the card and the stuffed bear. It’d be a shame if he wasted them. And then, Ben would probably figure that if Lewis  _was_  gay, he wouldn’t be so brash about giving Ben a valentine’s present. 

 

When Lewis seals the envelope, he feels a lot better. With that logic in mind, he dropped the card in the bag along with the bear. He’ll leave it outside Ben’s office later, after a few people have left. Then Lewis himself will leave, and all will be well. Lewis stands up from his desk, back straight, smiling. His plan is fool proof— nothing can go wrong, right? 

 

— 

 

Sips is up in the office for a few days. He’s due a visit— he almost misses all his pals. However, he does not miss the janky plane flight and the horrible plane food and and horrible icky sweatiness that comes from being in a plane— 

 

It wasn’t scheduled that he would be in Bristol for Valentine’s Day. He does feel bad, for leaving his wife home alone, but you know, business is business.  

 

When it’s late, and Sips is walking down the hall to his temporary office, he spots a bag outside Ben’s office. Sips didn’t let his curiosity get the better of him. He isn’t nosy. He won’t go looking in other people’s business.  

 

A few hours later, Sips cracks open his office door and peeks. It’s still there. The bag itself is red, that weird kind of card that gift bags are made of. It’s sparkly, too, something Sips doesn’t realize originally. He looks around, as much as he can in this cramped hallway. No one else is around. It wouldn’t hurt to look. Would it? 

 

Quietly, slowly, he tiptoes towards the bag. He shouldn’t be making a big deal of it, but fuck it. If Ben has a secret admirer, then Sips wants to know. It’s not like he even visits that much. Who cares if he sees it anyway? 

 

Sitting back in his office with the bag discarded on his desk, Sips wants to throw up into a trash can. He’d never expected Lewis to be into Ben, and  _holy shit_ he never expected Lewis to be so goddamn  _soppy_.  

 

Things like  _I’m so glad we’re friends_  and  _streaming with you is_ _my favourite stream of the week_  and Jesus, Sips is doing Lewis a fucking favour. Lewis must’ve been drunk when he did this. There’s no other way. 

 

There’s a cuddly bear too— a little fluffy white thing with big red hearts as eyes— and it’s so cheesy Sips feels like he’s walked straight into a romcom and he wants to walk straight back out. Sips is torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to actually get sick. 

 

He’s had enough for today, he thinks. This is too much for him. He throws the card and the bear back into the red sparkly gift bag and throws it behind his desk. It can wait till another time. This is too much for Sips. He turns off the light and heads to his hotel. He's going to go the fuck to sleep and forget this ever happened. 

 

— 

 

Ben doesn’t mention Lewis’ Valentine’s present. Lewis figures he wants to keep it to himself. It’s a shame he can’t get Ben’s opinion on it, but maybe he’s embarrassed. Maybe he’s surprised Lewis was so forward. Either way, Ben doesn’t mention it and neither does Lewis. It’s best that way, Lewis thinks. Maybe Ben will get him a present next time. 

 

— 

 

Sips never actually tells Lewis that he took Ben’s present. Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

 

— 

 

“Have you seen Lewis and Ben?” Duncan says across the desk to Martyn. Duncan is busy researching tickets to the latest Nickelback concert and the words are very offhand in a way that makes them not very offhand at all. 

 

Martyn looks up. He raises a single eyebrow. He hears the casual-not-casual tone to Duncan’s voice, and Duncan catches his eyes but doesn’t hold the gaze. “What about them?” Martyn asks.  

 

Martyn is in one of his moods where he's trying to get work done, and he does not respond well to distractions. The office is quiet. The only other people is an editor, who is in a corner headbanging, and Tom, who is sitting a few computers away. Duncan looks each side, almost as if he’s crossing the road. Tom is close, but he looks too engrossed in his computer to be listening. Maybe he’s trying to get Nickelback tickets too.  

 

“They’re doing the thing again.” Duncan divulges, keeping his eyes on his monitor. He looks around again, after a moment, trying to keep it unsuspicious. 

 

Martyn gives him a look. “The thing,” Martyn says. He could not be more sarcastic if he tried, and Duncan begins to wonder if he should’ve kept this to himself. 

 

He gets the distinct impression Martyn thinks he’s wasting his time talking to Duncan, and the thought makes Duncan speed into a higher gear. This is  _prime office gossip,_  fresh off the press. Duncan will not miss this opportunity to enjoy the look of surprise on Martyn’s face.  

 

“You know,” he fake-whispers, leaning forward in his seat, “the staring. The look at each other, all the time. When they don’t think the other will notice. It gets really annoying when we’re playing board games.” 

 

Martyn’s face cycles through confusion, intense thinking, surprise, back to intense thinking, and eventually settles on a painfully neutral expression. “Do you think—“  

 

Duncan cuts him off. He’s got the upper hand now. Martyn is his to play with. “Well,” Duncan drags out the word, a sly smile on his face, “I overheard Barry say to—“ 

 

The words are cut off, again, by the door opening and shutting. Turps enters, spreading his arms wide as he yells “WORK, MY SLAVES,” and makes the  _kapeesh_  noise of a whip. Sjin and Lewis follow in his wake. Duncan immediately minimises the window where he was in queue for the concert tickets. Martyn leans back in his seat slowly, still giving Duncan a look that says he doesn’t quite believe the gossip. Duncan shrugs at him over the computer screens and then they’re back to work. If concert tickets count as work. 

 

Meanwhile, a few computers away, Tom curses silently. If Ben and Lewis were exchanging sultry looks— that means Lewis has more than one admirer. Tom has competition. He sniffs. He'd better work a lot harder on his pouting if he wants to beat Ben. He always did like a competition, anyway. Tom goes back to work— googling ‘tips for growing beard’— with a newfound determination.   

 

— 

 

The second time they kiss, it is by accident. It's Ben's birthday, and him and Lewis are celebrating by themselves. Ben didn't want a big party, so instead they're having fun playing games.  _Enjoying each other's company._  Lewis went to kiss Ben's cheek, for whatever reason, but Ben turns at the wrong moment. Full-on lip smooch. Ben doesn't taste how Lewis thought he would. Not that Lewis imagines it, or anything. 

 

— 

 

Somewhere along the line, Sips decides he can't leave Lewis to his own devices if Lewis chooses terrible Valentine's cards and plush toys to try win over Ben. Sips doesn't say it to anyone, obviously. But whenever he's up in Bristol, he tries his best to play Cupid. 

 

He tries simple things, first. "Hey, Lewis, do you want to play Civ with me and Ben?" He asked Lewis. Lewis being Lewis, he cannot deny. Just as they sit down to play, Sips made it seem like there was some emergency at his hotel. He left, leaving Lewis and Ben (alone together) behind him.  

 

However, it's not that simple. It seems like both Ben and Lewis are unable to take a fucking hint. Sips can fucking see the tension between them, there's so much he could probably cut it with a knife, but  _they can't take the hint._  Sips has to think harder about his job as matchmaker.  

 

It gets to the point where he wants to stomp around the office, banging pots and pans together, yelling "LEWIS AND BEN. FUCKING KISS ALREADY." Sips never thought he'd become so invested in someone else's relationship. Friendship.  _Friendship_. They're still only friends. For now. 

 

— 

 

MISSED CALL FROM LEWIS BRINDLEY, 4:48AM 

 

MISSED CALL (2) FROM LEWIS BRINDLEY, 4:49AM 

 

MISSED CALL (5) FROM LEWIS BRINDLEY 4:51AM 

 

CALLING LEWIS BRINDLEY, 4:52AM 

 

"Lewis, what the  _fuck—"_  

 

 _"_ Ben, I couldn't sleep, alright. Ben, Ben, do you think—" 

 

"It's almost five in the morning—" 

 

"Do you think dicks can be used as weapons? Since they shoot?" 

  

— 

 

Ben and Lewis may or may not be drunk off of some of Lewis’ gin. (Why do all his incidents with Ben include alcohol?) They just finished streaming and come on, they may as well. The office is basically deserted— Lewis doesn’t know the time, but it’s late. Whatever. 

 

“You know something,” Ben slurs, slamming down the bottle of gin, “The moon landing was—“ 

 

Lewis throws his hands out. “No!” He screeches. “The moon landing was fake! Humans can’t go on— on the moon— we don’t—“ 

 

Ben looks at him. Gives him his Concentrated look. Furrowed brows. Squinty eyes. “No, you know something, Lew—“ 

 

“No! You know something, you know something— you could suck me off, right here,  _right now_ , and I wouldn’t give a fucking shit—“ 

 

“How do you explain the footsteps on the moon—“ 

 

“Suck me off, Ben, I dare you—“ 

 

Suddenly there is silence. Ben looks at Lewis. Lewis looks at Ben. Lewis is hoping, desperately hoping, that they are too drunk for things to become awkward. Ben starts laughing. Lewis laughs too, to hide his sigh of relief. And the disappointment that Ben  _didn’t_  suck his dick. Huh. 

 

— 

 

Tom decides it's time to tell Lewis about his feelings. He's been beating around the bush too much. It's not fair to Lewis, or himself. What's the point in keeping it a secret? He can't gain anything from it then. He finds Lewis in his office. He knocks on the door, once, twice. He takes a deep breath and ignores his heart beating ninety miles an hour. Lewis turns to look at him. 

 

“Tom?”

 

"Lewis? I've been meaning to tell you this for a long time, but I just want you to know I really—" 

 

Suddenly the chorus of 'Toto — Africa' rings out, and Lewis digs out his phone from his pocket. His phone is ringing. Tom can clearly see the words 'Ben <3' set as the caller ID.

 

"Sorry, Tom, I have to take this. I'll talk to you later—" 

 

He answers the phone then, and Tom leaves, feeling emotionally hollow. Maybe he'll just admire Lewis from afar instead. That's worked up until now. 

 

— 

 

It's summer when things get  _really_ bad. 

 

They were playing games together, as they do, and Lewis tripped over his own feet, or his legs got caught in his chair or some wires or  _something_ — 

 

It's all a blur, but Lewis is sprawled out on the floor. He must’ve caught Ben on the way down, because Ben's sprawled out on top of Lewis, and it's in that moment that Lewis realizes Ben’s freckles. 

 

Ben’s freckles, and Ben’s nose, and Ben’s hair, which was getting longer since he hadn’t cut it in a while, and Ben’s  _everything_ , really. Then Lewis realizes he has to do something, or say something, because they're just lying there on top of each other in silence, so he says the first thing that comes to mind— 

 

"Fuck me." 

 

 _Fuck me._  Lewis knows he’s an idiot sometimes, he knows he says the wrong things at the wrong times, but Jesus Christ, he couldn’t have done much worse. But Ben is heavy, and warm, and he is so  _Ben_  that Lewis gets confused. It's not his fault he might have a crush on his friend who also happens to be his co-worker. It's obviously Ben's fault. For being irresistible. Right. That's it. Definitely. 

 

But Ben being Ben, smiles and says “Maybe some other time.”  

 

It's sweet. Ben's joking, surely, but is Lewis crazy for thinking there was something genuine in his voice? Was there something that almost sounded like hope? His thoughts are interrupted when the door moves. Tom is standing there, eyes as wide as saucers.  

 

Immediately, there is movement. Ben is no longer on top of him, and Lewis waves his arms around. "This isn't— this isn't what it looks like, Tom, I swear—" 

 

However, Tom is gone. Lewis sighs, lying back on the floor. He shares a look with Ben. Jesus Christ. 

 

Thinking about it, maybe it was nothing. It doesn't stop Lewis from becoming suddenly hyper aware of Ben, as if he wasn't already. Lewis supposes he's paranoid, all the time. Paranoid someone will put two and two together and end up with sixty-nine. However, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if everyone thought he was fucking Ben. Maybe that way, they  _would_ fuck. Oh well. Who knows. 

 

— 

 

It's the height of summer, and it's warm. Warmer than it usually is. It's humid, and heavy, and Lewis finds himself wishing for the crisp cold of winter. However, right now, the sky is bright blue and the clouds are brilliant white. It's a gorgeous day, and Lewis is sweating so much he feels like he's more sweat than he is flesh.  

 

He makes his rounds, trying to find someone to go on a walk with him. Sjin is away, Duncan got sunburned the other day and doesn't want to go outside ever again, Tom isn't talking to Lewis much anymore, and Turps is too busy playing Hearthstone. 

 

It leaves Lewis in a bad mood, since he  _really_  wanted to get some ice cream. So, when he sees Ben gathering his things as he gets ready to leave, Lewis takes his opportunity.  

 

"Do you want to come get ice cream with me?" Lewis asks him. He leans his head to the side. Ben looks at him, looks at his phone, looks back at Lewis. 

 

"Uh—" 

 

"C'mon, it'll be fun. Plus it's exercise. And it's a lovely day. And you can get the bus home afterwards because it's on the way." 

 

Ben still looks hesitant, but Lewis can see him think it over. After a slow moment of deliberation, Ben nods, and off they go.  

 

— 

 

They walk out of the ice cream parlour, Lewis with a massive ice cream cone with three scoops, Ben with a mango ice frappé. They both have their sunglasses, since the sun is blinding when it shines properly through the trees. Lewis is struck by a feeling of wonder at how brilliant his life is. He has friends, and a job he loves, and everything is just brilliant. 

 

His opinion changes very quickly when he gets distracted looking at a bird, walks into a lamp post and drops his vanilla-rum-bubblegum ice cream. Lewis wants to cry. It doesn't stop him from kneeling down taking a picture of it. He posts it on the Yogscast Instagram with the caption 'help'. 

 

Lewis kneels there, next to his ice cream which is beginning to melt on the ground. "I paid  _six pounds_  for that and  _I_ _didn't even get to eat it_ —" 

 

Ben pats his shoulder. "You can have some of my frappé, if you want." 

 

"God, Ben, I love you." Lewis says, smiling. Ben offers him the drink, and Lewis takes a sip. Ben holds out his hand. Lewis feels his heart soar— Ben wants to hold hands!— but Ben is actually offering Lewis a hand up off the ground. However, when Lewis is standing up, neither of them let go. 

 

They started walking towards the bus stop, passing the mango ice frappé back and forth, holding hands. Lewis is pleasantly warm, basking in the heat, as they wander down the street. He feels like he's on cloud nine. "No homo," Lewis mumurs 

 

"No homo," Ben echoes. Lewis can hear the smile on his face. 

 

— 

 

When Barry opens the door to the storage closet and finds Lewis and Ben, wrapped around each other like snakes, he doesn’t quite know what to do. They’re both looking like deer caught in headlights, and their lips are puffy and bruised and if Barry sees that right, there’s something that looks very close to a hickey on Lewis’ neck. They stare at him, and Barry stares back. 

 

Barry shuts the door with a bang. He stands there for a moment, trying to think through what just happened. The door opens again, just a crack, and Lewis’ bony fingers drop a crumpled twenty pound note into Barry’s hands. 

 

Barry stuffs the money in his pocket and runs away. He wonders if Tom has any advice on how to bleach images from your brain. 

 

— 

 

Lewis doesn't quite know where he stands with Ben, now. They're not in a relationship, anyway, but they're definitely more than friends. He doesn't know, but he doesn't mind. As long as Ben's by his side, whether it's in board games or whatever else you're supposed to do in life, Lewis doesn't care. He is happy. That's what matters. 

 

 

 


End file.
